


it's plenty real

by darkchives



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Relationship, Quarantine, oh my god they were roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:27:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23606785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkchives/pseuds/darkchives
Summary: Chekov moves in with a doctor he barely knows just days before he is forced into quarantine.
Relationships: Pavel Chekov/Leonard "Bones" McCoy
Comments: 6
Kudos: 70





	it's plenty real

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my GOD they were qUaRaNtInEd

The wifi was out. Again. Chekov threw his earbuds across his laptop and sat back, frustrated. “Another seminar I guess I’m skipping,” he muttered, gathering the courage to creep out of his room and fiddle with the router. He had the bad fortune of moving into a new apartment one week before the shelter in place order was announced, and even though he was glad to leave his messy old place, he hadn’t taken into account the fact that he’d be spending each and every day with a man he’d literally never met. Who was also a doctor. Who refused to speak to him for fear of Disease. 

Which meant, of course, that fixing the wifi was a dangerous game. Chekov crept out of his room and covered his mouth and nose with a t-shirt. He was taking the quarantine for his cough seriously, but there was also his education to consider. _Really if the router wasn’t ancient I wouldn’t have to break quarantine as often as I do_ , Chekov reasoned. He restarted the router and silently celebrated the blinking green lights. 

Chekov snapped out of his celebration at the sound of keys in the door and vaulted himself over the couch to get to his room before Leonard could open the door. Chekov realized seconds too late that the couch was much taller than he’d anticipated and could only brace for impact as his foot was caught on the back of the couch and his head slammed against the doorway to his room. 

Chekov thudded to the ground and immediately clutched his forehead. He could feel the blood already seeping through his finger as Leonard opened the door. The shock of impact was too much for a moment so he had no choice but to sit pathetically, head hanging, as Leonard inexorably opened the door. _Maybe if I stay very still he will not notice_ , Chekov thought desperately. 

Something told him, though, that Leonard was standing right above him. The suspicion was confirmed when the older man’s Southern drawl sounded in alarm, “What the hell happened to you?” 

Chekov jumped at the sound anyway and suppressed a groan. “Just a minor, ummm, wifi-related incident. I’ll be fine…” He trailed off, hands still covering his face and forehead. 

Leonard crouched down level to Chekov and gently grabbed his wrists, pulling them away to look at the gash. “I’ll be the judge of that. I didn’t know wifi could cause flesh wounds.” 

Chekov kept his eyes squeezed shut more out of embarrassment than pain. “Surprise?”

Leonard’s cool fingers prodded Chekov’s hair away from his face, and Chekov winced as strands came away sticky with blood. “You sit here and I’ll grab some ice and a bandage. Luckily you don’t need stitches, because I wouldn’t want you anywhere near an emergency room right now.” 

Chekov risked opening his eyes as Leonard got up to grab the supplies. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be a bother.” The words sounded stupid even as he said them. 

“Good thing you probably aren’t sick,” Leonard replied, more gently than Chekov anticipated. He put a hand on Chekov’s shoulder and steered him toward his room. “Still, can’t take any risks. Here’s the ice, and here’s the bandage. Now, not to sound like your mom, but go to your room.” 

Chekov laughed, “Will I have to go to bed without supper too, Matushka?” 

“No, and I’ll even make you something if it means you’ll stay in your room.”

Chekov paused, struck by the gesture. His old roommates were wildly overprotective of their food, despite stealing his on a regular basis. “Yes, thank you Dr. McCoy.”

“I am begging you to call me Leonard, or even McCoy.”

“Thank you, Leonard.” Chekov felt odd calling such an accomplished doctor he barely knew by their first name, but if that’s what he wanted and there was a free home cooked meal out of it then he could deal. 

Chekov went through his room and to his bathroom to inspect the still bleeding wound. The cut wasn’t as big as he’d expected from all the blood on his hands, but it was big enough that he suspected it would mar his eyebrow until fully healed. He washed the drying blood off his face and cleaned the wound as best he could before bandaging it. Hopefully there wouldn’t be any questions about it from his classmates or professor. He didn’t think he could bear the thought of having to explain that he was sneaking around his own home.

The head wound was hardly worth the lackluster class meeting. A vast majority of his classmates were black screens and his own cheap webcam was hardly better. His professor cut in and out every five minutes and fiddled with settings he didn’t know how to fix. Chekov could hardly blame him while every other elderly professor and luddite in the country was struggling with the adjustment. 

Just as class ended, Leonard knocked on his door, muffled voice drawling, “Food service delivery for one Pavel Chekov. Contactless pick-up requested.” 

Chekov laughed, hoping Leonard could hear him. “Thanks, Chef. You’re too kind.” He waited a moment for Leonard’s bedroom door to close and finally opened his own to a bowl of no-nonsense spaghetti. It was plain but the sauce was tasty, and Chekov was still surprised by Leonard’s kindness. He pulled out his phone to text him, realizing the last messages they’d exchanged were when Chekov was looking at the apartment. Before he could send a text, though, a new message popped up from Leonard. _Bon appetit. Put your dish outside and I’ll take it later. Don’t leave your room :)_

Chekov snorted at the smiley face. _Wouldn’t dream of it xx._

Xx

Chekov didn’t have class the next day, so he spent the morning snacking on dry cereal and avoiding his homework. He hadn’t heard Leonard take the bowl, but decided it was worth the risk to stick his head out and grab some lunch. 

He didn’t manage to get the door open more than a few inches before Leonard barked, “Excuse me! Why are you leaving!” 

Chekov laughed and closed the door, stomach growling. “But Mr. Chef Doctor Sir, I really need some lunch.”

“It’s 2 pm. How have you not needed lunch before this?”

“What, were you waiting for me?” Chekov waited a moment, wondering if Leonard had even heard him. The question felt too forward. 

But Leonard shot back an instant later, “So what if I was? How was I supposed to know you are the laziest roommate apparently ever?” 

Chekov blushed. “I’ve been awake since 11, thanks.” 

“Oh, pardon me, early riser. What do you want for your late lunch?”

Chekov decided to take a risk. “French toast or bust.”

A few moments passed and Chekov heard the fridge door opening and closing. “French toast it is,” Leonard said finally. “But only because it’s my day off and I’m feeling generous.”

Chekov balked at Leonard’s willingness to cook for him two meals in a row, but made peace with the idea when he could smell bacon frying as well as french toast. He’d just have to make it up to him as soon as he was allowed in the rest of the house. Chekov glanced at the calendar. He still had another week of this. Surely Leonard would relent and at least let him make his own meals.

Chekov begrudgingly started on his homework. The enthusiasm he had at the beginning of the semester had dwindled to almost nothing after the abrupt shift to online coursework. He made the best of it and tried to stay positive, but discussion boards simply could not replace his time in the classroom. _Feeling sorry for yourself certainly won’t replace that time either_ , he scolded. He jumped at a knock on the door. 

“Lunch is served, lazybones.”

“I am not lazy. I’m an invalid and as a doctor I suspected you’d be a little more sympathetic.” He rolled out of bed and faked the cough he’d almost fully recovered from and breathed a dramatic sigh, hoping that Leonard could hear it from the other side of the door. 

“I am so sorry. I’ll make you sympathy brisket tonight.”

Chekov stood in front of his door, hand frozen on the doorknob. 

“You can’t. You’ve been too kind already.”

“Like hell I can’t. I can’t afford to get sick with everything going on at the hospital, so if it keeps you away from me then I’ll play a cook for another week. Plus, I’ve seen your side of the fridge. Gives me a chance to flex my obviously superior cooking skills.”

“‘Hurtful. You’ve had a lot longer than me to get cooking skills.”

“A lot? It’s ten years, Pavel. Ten years of experience could not save your cooking.”

“Ouch. Did they teach you how to treat burns in medical school, or do you only cause them? And it’s just Chekov. Nobody but my mother calls me Pavel.”

Xx

Leonard knocked on Chekov’s door again that evening, and before Chekov even crossed the room to collect his dinner, delicious tendrils of brisket-smell trickled into the space. “Leonard, you are apparently a master of meats,” he said, knocking on his side of the door to signal he was going to open it. 

Leonard snorted. “You may never ever say that again, holy shit.” 

Chekov felt himself turning crimson and was glad for the door between them. “You know what I did and didn’t mean.” 

“I’m not interested in thinking about it anymore, Chekov. Get your dinner before it gets cold.”

“But you’re still outside.” 

“I’m six feet away. I thought I could eat out here while you eat in there. Virtually hang out.” 

“That’s sweet but it’s actually not virtual unless you are logged on to a video conferencing platform.” Chekov bit his lip and opened the door. The brisket beckoned, and he swiftly grabbed it, too embarrassed to look at Leonard. He was losing all powers of normal speech. _Is a good meal really all it takes for me to feel something?_

“My bad. Want to hang out through a door instead? It will be an entirely real experience.”

“I long for real experiences. I’d be happy to share a blind brisket dinner with you.” 

They settled into a slightly awkward but companionable silence. 

After a few minutes, Leonard spoke. “What are you even studying, Chekov? I hardly know anything about you. You could’ve been an axe murderer. An axe murderer with a baby face.”

Chekov laughed hard enough to nearly choke on his food, “It’s been almost two weeks and you’re just now wondering what I do? And I don’t have a baby face.”

“I’ve been a bit busy with a PANDEMIC. And you’re INFECTED, Babyface.” Leonard let out a long hiss, “You can’t see it but I’ve got a cross against the door.” 

“You do not.”

“Prove it.”

“Fine.” Chekov jiggled the door handle and opened the door a fraction of an inch before it was pulled closed again.

“I may be an axe murderer, but I think it’s more likely you’re a kidnapper.” 

“Well we’ll just have to agree that the house is off limits for our extracurricular activities and we’ll be fine. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Now back to the interrog- conversation.” Chekov heard a plate clink against the floor and felt Leonard lean more heavily on the door. 

“I’m getting my Phd in physics.”

“What a coincidence. I’m a physician.”

“Not the same.”

“Close enough.” 

“So close yet so far.”

“Just like us through the door.”

Chekov blushed again. “Oh haha. The drama of it all.” 

Leonard was quiet for a moment. “The drama of it all,” he repeated. “Truly my life has never felt so dramatic.”

“I know how you feel. I mean, obviously it’s not the same, but I do get it. I hate my online classes and it was scary to move here with such short notice.” 

“Mm. It’s a weird time. If I’m being honest, I was really worried about having a new roommate even before all of this, so I guess I lucked out. Things feel a lot more fun around here with you. It’s fun to cook for two.”

Chekov smiled at that. “Even if I moonlight as a murderer? And besides, I’m only fun because you haven’t actually hung out with me in real life.”

“Hey. We decided this is real life.”

“This is...this is a vague imitation of real life.”

Leonard laughed softly, and Chekov felt him shift against the door. “Somehow I feel like that’s an overstatement.” 

Chekov shook his head, knowing the motion would transfer through the door. “That’s the thing about physics, actually,” he started, voice quiet. “Everything is connected. Even the smallest actions matter. Who knows how this brisket has disrupted the universe, or what it would mean if the door were to fly open. That’s what’s real.”

“The door will fly open if you call my brisket a disruption one more time. And that experience will be very real for both of us.” 

“That would be a disruption! See! Everything matters and every action can cause change.” 

Leonard laughed, this time louder. “So if everything matters so much, why isn’t this real?”

Chekov bit his lip. “I can’t see you and you can’t see me. We don’t know each other.”

“Sight’s not the only thing that makes something real. I would think that a student of physics would know better than that. There’s hearing. We talk through this virtual door. There’s touch - where you inexplicably get injured by the wifi. Haven’t figured that one out yet, but you see my argument.”

“You got me.” Chekov knew that Leonard was right, but he couldn’t resist dragging the conversation out into absurdity. “You can’t possibly gauge, oh, I don’t know, whether or not I truly like your cooking without seeing me. You can’t see me react, or know how I perceive the taste.”

“I can tell.”

“You know how my taste receptors respond to your brisket?”

“No, that you like my cooking. You seem to clean your plate and you did say I was a master of meats.” 

Chekov wrinkled his nose. “I thought we were never going to talk about that again.”

There was a long pause, and Chekov began to worry that the gentle teasing that was edging toward a more real conversation was too much. But finally Leonard spoke. “I get the feeling there are many things I would be happy to talk about with you, Chekov. Is that real enough for you?”

His heart beating fast, Chekov shifted, placing his hand against the door. “It’s plenty real.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the read. Stay safe out there.


End file.
